


Let the World Turn Without You

by Backwards_Blackbird



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Annas is a flirty mofo, Essentially fluff despite - you know - the subject matter, Implied Sexual Content, JCS 1973, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwards_Blackbird/pseuds/Backwards_Blackbird
Summary: Caiaphas needs to chill out. Annas is happy to oblige. Based on JCS 1973, set the evening of ‘Then We Are Decided.’





	Let the World Turn Without You

**Let the World Turn Without You**

Caiaphas paced the stone floors of the priests’ quarters, looking like a dour raven with his cloak trailing behind him.

Annas had carried a torch and followed him like an eager shadow to where he slept. It was hardly the first time, nor would it be the last.

And once they’d trodden the same discussion and the same footpaths enough times to wear ruts in the floor and Annas’s patience, he put a firm hand to Caiaphas’s chest, halting him where he stood. He looked up at that jaded face, those hooded blue eyes, cast in shadow and flickering torchlight, and said only, “Peace.”

Caiaphas gave a world-weary sigh.

This was invitation enough for Annas to slip a hand into his coarse hair, still askew from the wind, and pull their faces close. Their mouths met briefly in the darkness. “Dear Caiaphas,” he said softly.

That was a risk. He would sometimes bristle at such affection when he was this anxious, this mentally preoccupied. But this time, his shoulders gradually fell, his breathing slowed. His focus began to shift, and he touched a hand to Annas’s beard. 

This was a welcome distraction.

Or was it? Something shook him suddenly, and he pulled away and narrowed his eyes in troubled thought. But Annas was persistent. He placed his hands on the high priest’s shoulders and guided their eyes back to one another.

“We will face it tomorrow, hmm?” Annas chimed as soothingly as he could, his eyes wide and brows raised. “We have our position. We only need to make them see it. As I’m certain they already do. Surely you feel no _sympathy_ for the fool?” he laughed with an incredulous shake of the head.

“Of course not,” Caiaphas hissed and recoiled.

Oh, but he did. That much was perfectly clear. He was hardly the remorseless voice of justice he fancied himself.

But Annas would leave it. He was perhaps the only soul who glimpsed this rare side of the high priest. After all, he was his good confidant, and had been for several years. And what good would it do to stir him up further? “Then you have no worries. You are persuasive,” he said with a suggestive lilt as he slipped one hand to caress his upper back. “And it shall be done. Now, _rest_. You should.”

Caiaphas gave a sour grimace, heavy with the weight of responsibility. “It’s what we must do. There is no alternative. The good of the—”

“Joseph.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. That always caught him off guard. 

“Forget. It. Tonight,” Annas insisted, his consonants crisp. He guided Caiaphas to his bed and, with some difficulty, convinced him to sit. “You’re weary. What good does it do to dwell? And besides. You know I can help you when you’re weary.” He crossed his arms. “Enlist my help. Go on.”

“Oh, to hell with you.”

“There he is,” Annas said with a smile.

“I’m hardly in the state of mind.”

“Who’s to say this isn’t _precisely_ the sort of distraction you need right now?”

Caiaphas stared blankly at the opposite wall. He didn’t have an answer for that. 

Annas eyed him apprehensively. It was an uncomfortably warm night. Without a word, he unhooked Caiaphas’s cloak from its harness, removing the garment before folding it neatly at the corner of the bed. All the while he watched his body language closely, as though he were tending to a sleeping lion. But he simply sat still, immersed in thought while Annas undressed him, removing the burden of his task from his shoulders.

They sat in silence for a moment or two.

“You’ve already convinced me, at least. That’s no easy feat,” Annas said lightly as he removed his own cape. Caiaphas finally turned to him, brows peaked, urging him on. “And I don’t recall ever seeing the word ‘easy’ in your job description.”

He had to smile, almost imperceptibly, and conceded to this with a shallow nod. “So…”

Annas smoothed one side of Caiaphas’s hair with a kind and familiar hand that hardly matched the impatience in his voice. “So, _cool it_.”

That did it. As to why, Annas was uncertain. But he knew he had his full attention when the high priest granted him a flicker of undivided eye contact before kissing him properly. And his spindly hands held Annas’s face with particular reverence as he did.

It was hot to begin with, but there was a feverish warmth to Caiaphas’s skin that night that Annas could not help but notice—when he had his mouth full of him, when he was pinned tightly beneath him, when he dozed off uncovered atop him. Even as he sought to push those heavier matters from his mind, burying himself in Annas as he had many times before, still his skin burned like Hellfire with the exertion of overthought. 

But with dark early morning came a cooler wind, the lazy rhythm of sleep-breathing and the lingering scent of patchouli oil. Annas knew, if only for the time being, he had settled. 

Jesus of Nazareth could wait.


End file.
